


Honorific

by Jaxon



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canon Compliant, Hogwarts, M/M, Tumblr Prompt, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-17
Updated: 2017-07-17
Packaged: 2018-12-03 08:28:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11528427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jaxon/pseuds/Jaxon
Summary: Filch despises the snooty magical kids who crawl over his clean castle - until one day, he meets a boy who treats him with respect.Mr Filch, sir.Oh yes, he could get used to that...





	Honorific

Severus ran down the hallway, his lungs burning hot.  He clenched his wand tightly in his fist, and as he rounded the corner, he turned and cast behind him.   _Impedimenta!_ His spell was silent, but his internal voice was furious and the word bellowed through his mind.  He didn’t stop to watch the fallout.  He turned and sprinted, his heart beating furiously, hoping he’d bought himself enough time.  As he hurtled down the corridor, he heard steady thumping footsteps that could only signify a grown man – a teacher – coming from the other end of the hallway.  He paused, and strained his ears.  Flitwick?  Surely not.  Slughorn, perhaps?  And then he suddenly picked up the soft accompaniment of a much lighter footed creature intermingled with the heavy tread.

 _Filch_.

Severus pressed himself into an alcove, pulling his dark hair over his face and thrusting his hands into his pockets, hoping to blend into the shadows.  

“To the place, I belong…”

Severus’ black eyes darted, watching the older man singing as he swept the floor, Mrs Norris circling at his feet.  He glanced back at the top of the corridor, waiting for Sirius and James to appear – and then, sure enough, Filch’s head jerked upwards and his singing ceased.

“Hey!  Get back 'ere!”

The boys’ eyes widened, and then both youths turned on their heels and ran in the direction they’d emerged from.  Filch furiously threw down his broom and started after them, but James and Sirius were quick and nimble, and Filch was blowing hard before he reached the far end of the corridor.  He leant heavily against the bricks, waiting for a moment or two to catch his breath. When he finally stalked back towards a nonchalant Mrs Norris, he flexed his fingers, cringing as he stooped to retrieve his broom.

“Little horrors,” he muttered, brandishing his brush, and shaking it towards his beloved cat.  “Where’s Peeves when you need him?  Soon teach them oiks a thin’ or two.”  He sniffed loudly.  “Now, where was I?  Already forgotten.  Don’t get old, gal.  Don’t get old.”

Filch gave a hacking cough, and thumped his chest firmly.  Severus watched curiously as Filch started to sweep once more, and a gentle and soft song emanated from the older man.

“Life is old there, older than the trees…”

* * *

“Go on, get on with yer,” Filch snapped, waving the young Quidditch players past.  “Had enough of yer dawdlin’ round ‘ere.  Traipsin’ through with yer muddy boots.”

Severus stood at the door to the castle, and wordlessly slipped his boots from his feet.  He banged them against the outer wall, knocking the mud from between the studs onto the ground.  Carrying his boots by the backs, he walked past the caretaker in socked feet, glancing up at the taller man, who eyed him curiously.

“What’s this then?”

Severus froze.  “Jus’ tryin’-”

“-are you mockin’ me, lad?”

“No!”  The young boy scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, refusing to look at the bristled face towering above him.  “I get it.  I live wi’ Muggles,” he admitted, softly.

“I’m no Muggle.”

“I know that,” Severus retorted hotly, his face flushing.  “But I know it ain’t as simple as…  _Scourgify_!”  Before he could consider what he was doing, his wand was in his hand, and the messy floor was cleared.  His eyes widened, and he looked at the ground.

“Had yer fun, ‘ave yer?”

“Sorry,” Severus said, softly, backing away from the older man.  “Sir.”

* * *

“Dunno what the little beggar is playin’ at,” Filch said, setting a bowl of food on the floor. “Sir.  Sir!  Ain’t never one of these little blighters called me sir before.”  He straightened, and gave a small smile.  “Could get used to it, mind.”  He sniffed.  “Aye, that I could.”

* * *

Severus picked himself up out of the bushes.  He hated flying, he hated Quidditch, and he hated Sirius bloody Black.

“I thought you were a wizard, Snivellus?”  James yelled, circling the air above him on his top of the range broom.  “You know Hogwarts can send you back to that Muggle hole you came from, right?”

“Yeah,” Sirius joined in, flying behind his friend on his own Cleansweep.  “Fail the first year, and they snap your wand!”  He glanced down at Severus, who was brushing leaves from his hair.

“It’s obvious we won’t be seeing his ugly face much longer.  It’s for the best really.  Hogwarts shouldn’t be letting in Muggles or Squibs,” James laughed.  He leant back on his broom, hurled a snitch into the air, and both boys went spiralling after it.

Severus swiped the dishevelled broom he’d been using from the floor and threw it angrily into the pile of old school equipment, before stomping into the castle.

“Oi!”

Severus stilled.  He didn’t dare move forwards, but nor did he look up at the voice.  His fists were balled by his sides, and his small body was practically vibrating with anger.

“I thought yer understood.”

Severus frowned, uncertain. When nothing more was forthcoming, he finally glanced at the caretaker.  Filch gently pointed at Severus’ feet, and Severus closed his eyes, looking pained.  “I’m sorry, sir.”  He hastily moved to kick his boots off, but Filch caught his arm.

“I’m no’ angry wi’ yer, lad.”  He drew himself up to his full height.  “I… _appreciate_ yer efforts.”

“I can…”  Severus faltered, pulling his wand from his waistband. “I can get rid of my mud.”

Filch eyed him curiously, and silently placed a cold finger beneath the young boy’s chin.  Severus swallowed, but didn’t flinch, and Filch gently tipped his head back.  “Yer bleedin’.”

“s’nothin.”

“Yer hurt,” he said, quietly.  “Hospital wing.  Now.”

“It’s fin-”

“Yer go, or I’ll take yer meself.”

Severus paused to unlace his boots, and - carrying them in his hands - slowly moved towards the staircase.

Filch nodded, please at the boy’s assent, and bent down.  He exhaled loudly as he dropped his cloth into his bucket of water and then sloshed it across the stone floor.  He grimaced, flexing his fingers before starting to scrub.  He didn’t see Severus pause at the stairs, guilt etched across his features.

* * *

Filch frowned, and stood, brushing toast crumbs from his shirt.  He couldn’t remember the last time anyone knocked at his door, save for Dumbledore, and he surely hadn’t done anything of late to cause the Headmaster to notice him.  He yanked the solid wooden door open, and was surprised to see the slight dark-haired boy before him.

“What d’yer want, lad?”

Severus silently pulled a jar out of his robes and held it before him.

“For me?”  A flicker of amazement crossed Filch’s brow, and his large hand closed over the boy’s warm fingers.  He lifted the jar and inspected the scrawl.  “Is this yer writin’?”

Severus nodded.

“Like chicken scratch,” Filch laughed, peering closely.  “Arthritis?” His eyes narrowed.  “An’ what’s that when it’s at home?”

“Yer fingers,” Severus said, softly, flexing his fingers in an imitation.  “It should help.”  He turned, and glanced behind him as he left.  “Sir.”

Filch sank heavily against the doorframe as he watched the boy hurtle down the corridor, turning the jar over and over in his hands.

* * *

“Where d’yer learn to do that?”

Severus looked up from his textbook, surprised to see the caretaker out by the lake.  “It worked then, sir?”

Filch flexed his fingers, moving them smoothly through the air, and Severus smiled broadly.

“So.  What d’yer want?”

“Nowt.”

“…for the jar,” Filch elaborated.  “For more.”

The bell rang, and Severus grabbed his bag.  “Nowt,” he said, shouting over his shoulder as he ran back towards the school.

* * *

Severus perched on the edge of the chair, not unlike Mrs Norris used to when she’d first moved into his rooms.  The boy glanced from side to side, as if expecting an attack at any moment – but then, Filch mused to himself, Severus often looked like that, wherever he was in the castle.

Filch used a too-blunt knife to cut through the cake, leaving the edges ragged, and nudged it onto a faded but clean saucer.  “S’cuse fingers, lad.”

“It’s all right, sir,” Severus said, with a nod and a smile, taking the plate gratefully.

Filch wanted to tell him that he didn’t need to call him sir anymore, not in these rooms at least – but nobody else in the castle afforded him the honour, and he couldn’t bear to think the boy would stop altogether.  “How’s classes?”

“All right.”

“And flyin’?”

Severus snorted. “I’ve been getting a bit better. Lucius showed me-”

“I forgot yer were goin’ there.”  Filch narrowed his eyes.  “Yer talkin’ is gettin’ posher.”

“Got to,” Severus said, round a mouthful of cake.  “If I want to get ahead.”

Filch nodded sharply. “Be careful ‘round them Malfoys.”

“Not you and all,” Severus scowled.  “Lucius is good to me.”

“My mother was married to a Malfoy,” Filch said, quietly.

“You’re a-”

“No.”  Filch stood.  “An’ don’t yer go mentionin’ it to ‘is nibs.”  He paused, scratching Mrs Norris behind the ears.  “After she ‘ad me.  Them Malfoys don’t take well to Squibs.”  He gave Severus an appraising look.  “Nor them who live amongst Muggles, I bet.”

“Lucius reckons he can wash the stain off me.”  Severus gave a half laugh, but his dark eyes stayed cool.  

“Yer be careful, son.”

“Sir.”

“I’m serious.  I’ve seen yer cut a deal before.”

Severus scowled.  “How many times?  I gave you the cream because I thought it would help.”

“It does, an’ I’m grateful,” Filch said, placing a warm hand on Severus’ knee.  “But don’t go givin’ yer gifts away.  Certainly not to any Malfoys.”

* * *

He almost ran to the dungeons, such was his glee.  There was nothing Filch loved more than doling out punishment to miscreants, and it had been a long time between drinks.  He heard the teachers in the corridors, and knew that they preferred to favour one house or another, but Filch had no such allegiances.  Gryffindor, Slytherin, Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw – they were all the same to him.  Dirty, nasty little children, and he loved nothing more than putting them in their place.

He marched into the dungeon corridor, Mrs Norris scurrying in his wake.  He flung open the door to the Slughorn’s study – and pulled up short. Standing before the desk was a very sombre Severus Snape.

“Ah, Mr Filch,” Slughorn beamed.  “Very good of you to come at such short notice.”  He rounded the desk.  “Now, Master Snape here has been…”  He frowned at the younger boy.  “…experimenting in dark magic.”

The lad?  Dark magic?  Filch stood up a little straighter.  “Dark magic, professor?  Really? A scrawny thing like ‘im?”

“Indeed.”

“Are yer sure, professor?”

“Yes,” Slughorn said, disapprovingly.

“And yer’ve checked there’s no…extenuating circumstances?”

Severus made a slight movement, but didn’t look up. He was staring avidly at the paved floor, as if nobody else was in the room.

Slughorn gave Filch a curious look.  “I must say, this isn’t like you, Mr Filch.  Normally you’d be keen to set the world to rights.”  He shook his head lightly.  “Yes, there were extenuating circumstances.  Professor McGonagall is investigating the behaviour of the students from her house, and I am sure she will call upon you if and when required.  I have listened to Master Snape’s side of the story, and I am satisfied that this is the correct course of action.”  Slughorn returned to his seat behind his desk, and practically dismissed the pair with a wave of his hand.  “There is no need for concern, Mr Filch.  I have explained at length, and he understands the punishment for such misbehaviour.”

“With me then, boy,” Filch said, holding the door open for the young boy to walk before him.

* * *

Severus stood silently in the corridor, facing the wall.  His head was bowed, and his nose almost touched the cool brickwork.

Filch busied himself inside his office, sweeping papers from the desk, and then summoned the boy in. “Now…”  He coughed, awkwardly.   _This is why you don’t befriend the students_.

“It’s ok.”

Filch stared at the boy, whose dark eyes had been following him ever since he’d granted him access to the office.

“I know the rules.” Without being prompted, the boy slipped his robes off his shoulders and let them pool on the floor.  With a movement that was too smooth to have been new to him, he stepped from them and leant forward, bracing himself on the desk.

Filch flinched.  “Who did this?”

He’d never seen such marks before. Admittedly, few were beaten at Hogwarts - never girls, and only boys for the most serious of transgressions. The rarity of the request from the professors explained why Filch had been so joyous initially. It was a rare moment of power - of a lowly Squib controlling a Wizard, that deep thrill of revenge coursing through his blood. A better man might have felt guilt at his delight, but Filch did not - the kids were magical, after all, and he knew they merely rubbed a bit of that purple ointment over the marks left by the cane, and it was all over within a few days.

It's not as if his punishments were like they were in Pringle's day, oh no, not with his chains and clamps and other terrifying torture equipment. Filch's efforts weren't about whipping or scarring - instead, it was a ritual; an embarrassment that your housemates knew you’d been bent over the filthy caretaker’s desk, and a few hours of squirming on the hard wooden seats in classes.  It was demeaning at best, he was sure.

Filch drew a breath. He couldn’t help himself, and he reached forward, a roughened but gentle finger tracing the white lines on the young boy’s back.

The boy didn’t answer.

“Gerrup.”

Severus didn’t move.

Filch bent and collected the boy’s robes.  “Look son,” he said, pulling him up from the desk by his virtually non-existent bicep and pressing the worn cloth into his arms.  “Get yerself decent.”

“…but-”

“Let’s not, and say we did, eh?”  He swallowed hard.  “Yer couldn’t stand it if I did.  Not wi’ them scars.”

* * *

As far as nicknames went, it was ironic, really.   _Snivellus_. Filch had a horrible insight into just how tough the boy could be, and he’d never expected to see him reduced to tears.  Tonight, however, the lad’s sobbing was almost indecent - his chest heaved, his nose ran, and his eyes leaked.

Filch whistled uncomfortably in his cramped rooms, rinsing cracked mugs in the sink, and scooping loose tea into the pot.  “Two sugars, lad?”

“N-n-no.”

“I’m puttin’ in two,” Filch said, loudly.  “Yer’ve had a shock.”

“It’s-it’s-not a…sh-shock.”

Filch pursed his lips. “Well, whatever it is, it ain’t nice, is it?”  He gave a tight nod.  “So sweet tea’ll ‘elp.  That’s what me mother used to say.”

“Before she disowned you and shacked up with a Malfoy.”  The poisonous words escaped his mouth before he could stop them, and Filch stilled, teapot in one hand and spoon in another.

If Severus hadn’t followed his bitter comment with an almighty wail, Filch might’ve chucked him out on his ear.  If Severus hadn’t broken down and sobbed even more loudly, it might’ve been the end of the road.  But Severus did, so Filch put the pot down on the worktop, and stood behind the teenager who was almost bent double in the armchair, loudly gulping in air as he whimpered.

Filch placed his hands on his shoulders, and forced him to sit backwards.  “C’mon, lad.  Yer’ll do yersel’ a mischief carryin’ on like this.”

* * *

Severus stopped, closing the door quietly and dropping his bag to the floor.  “What’s all this?”

“Just a…”  Filch coughed, awkwardly.  “Just a celebration for yer.”

He looked at the cake on the small table, with its solitary candle flickering.  “How did you know?”

“Ways and means, lad, ways and means.”  Filch nodded, and pointed him towards it.  “Yer need to make a wish.”

“That’s birthdays.”

“Same difference,” Filch said, propelling the boy towards the table.  

Severus stowed his wand in his robes and bent over.  Filch flushed, and looked away as Severus made short work of extinguishing the candle.

“Yer din’t make a wish.”

“Might’ve.”

“Yer din’t have time.”

Severus laughed, and settled into one of the chairs, Mrs Norris jumping onto his lap.  He idly stroked her, rubbing around her neck and ears.  

“She likes that.”

“That’s why I’m doing it.”

Filch fell silent. “Yer not long for this place then.”

“End of the year,” Severus said, his attention focused on the cat.  “Got to get my NEWTs, apprentice or not.”

“And Malfoy?”

Severus’ head snapped up. “What about Lucius?”

“Heard he’s gettin’ wed.”

Severus said nothing, but sank a little deeper into his seat, his shoulders slouched.

“I know yer fancy ‘im.”

“I’m not a-”

“I din’t say yer were,” Filch said, hastily, holding his hands up.  “…no problem if yer were though, lad.”

“No?”

“Not by anyone ‘ere.”

“You and this mangy cat?”

Filch gave a soft laugh. “Dumbledore is, yer know.”

“Could hardly miss it.” Severus rubbed Mrs Norris’ chin, watching as she batted her head against his arm.  “And if I was..?”

“I’ve told yer.  No ‘arm in that, lad.”

* * *

Cake lasted a week now, not three days.  Filch cut it carefully, and closed the plastic wrapping tightly.  Last week’s had gone stale - dry and hard at the corner. He had to be more careful again; it had been years since that last happened.

* * *

The knock on his door caused him to leap into the air.  His heart thrummed in his chest as he straightened his shirt and pulled the door open.

“…Professor.”

“Argus,” Minerva said, pleasantly.  “This came for you in the Great Hall this morning.”  She passed him a tightly wrapped brown package, neatly tied with string. “I knew you were polishing the brass in the armoury, so I-”

“Thank you, professor.” He scanned the scrawled label, and a half smile flitted across his face before he could stop it.

“I don’t recall you getting post before,” she pressed.

“Probably my brother. If yer’ll excuse me, professor,” he said.  “Must get on.”  He slowly closed the door – not rude, never rude to a senior member of staff – but with a note of finality that was missed by neither party.

With stiff, trembling fingers he unwrapped the parcel, and a piece of parchment flew into his hands.

_I’m learning a lot.  I’ve made some amendments.  This should be better.  Feedback welcome.  Your lad._

Filch sat down heavily, and read the parchment over and over, turning the jar over in his wide palm. His lad.

* * *

He’d know that knock anywhere.  He paused by the mirror, checking his teeth and straightening his collar – and then he flung the door open widely.

“Never heard of constant vigilance, eh?”

Despite his snark, the boy’s grin was broad, and to Filch’s amazement, the youth eagerly stepped in to his outstretched arms.  After a long moment – yet somehow not long enough – they disentangled, and Filch quickly moved to his cupboard, keen to get things back onto more familiar ground.

“Got a bit of cake ‘ere, lad,” he said, fumbling with the packet.

“I came to see you, not eat your cake.”

“Never stopped yer before.”

Severus laughed, a rich, deep thrum that filled the room – and when Filch turned, his dark eyes were twinkling.

“Yer in a good mood.”

“…got my mastery the other week.”

“So I heard.  Yer’ve done well.”

“Did you expect anything else?”  Severus grinned widely.  “And now Dumbledore’s found me a place here.  Under Sluggy.”

Filch stilled.  “Professor Slughorn’s leaving?”

“No, don’t think so,” Severus said, fussing over Mrs Norris.  “McGonagall apprenticed under Dumbledore before taking on the Transfiguration department when he became Headmaster.  Same difference.”

Filch turned, frowning. “Professor Dumbledore’s leaving?”

“Not everyone leaves,” Severus said, smirking, and taking the thin slice of proffered cake.  He shrugged.  “Everyone knows Slughorn is next in line for Headmaster.  It’ll be years yet.  Decades.”  He gave a quick grin.  “I’m not crusty enough yet to be Head of Slytherin.”

“Yer reckon yer’ll get Head of Slytherin, eh?  Confident, ain’tcha?”

“Who else is going to have it?” Severus shot back.  “They’re all Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors in this place.”

“Hmmph.  Got yer feet right under the table.  Got ‘em all wrapped ‘round yer finger.”

Severus gave the older man a confused look.  “…have I upset you?”  He silently placed the saucer down on the worktop.  “I came straight to see you.  To tell you. You’re the first to know.”

“Yeah?  I barely know who yer are.  I ain’t seen yer in months.”

Severus tilted his chin upwards with an air of defiance.  “I had no reason to come by.”

“I’m no reason?” Filch nodded and gave a short laugh, clapping his hands against his thighs.  “Right.  Glad we got that settled.  See yer soon. Another three years or so should do it.” He indicated towards the door, but Severus stood his ground.

“I had no credible reason,” he said, his voice low and dangerous, “to come by Hogwarts.  Not that I did not wish to see you,” he clarified. “I am being watched.  Those watching me would not understand what I was doing here.”  He paused. “Or worse, they would understand and use it for their own ends.”

Filch deliberately didn’t look back at him, and after a long moment, Severus swept from the room.  The door banged loudly behind him, and then, as the silence was ringing around the older man, the heavy door swung back open.

“I sent you the potion, didn’t I?”  

The question hung thickly in the air, and Filch busied himself at the sink, not acknowledging the youth.

“For your hands.”  The boy’s voice grew darker, colder.  “Or did my owls not reach you, perhaps?  They came back emptyhanded, so I rather assumed you received the goods.”

“…yes.”

“Right.  And I improved it, didn’t I?”

“…yes.”

“Well then.”  

And he was gone.

* * *

“Professor.”

Severus gave a slight nod as he passed the older man.  “Filch.”

It had been a few years since he’d last been called sir, and he hadn’t rationally expected to hear it again. Still, it pierced him to hear his surname on the boy’s lips, as if a door had silently closed without him noticing until it had been firmly bolted.

* * *

Filch hung up the calendar and appraised the youth sitting opposite him.  He didn’t look so much of a youth anymore; he looked as if he’d aged three decades in three months.  “I’m glad yer’ve come.  I was startin’ to think yer only come down ‘ere to sob over some girl.”

“…I’ve done that twice.”

“Twice is too many.”

“I did not realise I was such an inconvenience.”  He stood in a petulant swirl of robes, but Filch caught his long fingered hand and pulled him back down.

“Stop yer bleatin’.  I can’t eat all this cake alone, can I?” He poured tea from the pot, and stirred both mugs.  “…I ain’t seen yer since Halloween.”

“I’ve been busy.  Slughorn upped and left.”

“I noticed.”  He paused.  “And Christmas?”

“…I was…otherwise engaged.”

“Malfoy?”

Severus huffed a short laugh.  “I wish.  Aurors.”

At this, Filch moved his mug away from his lips.  “Arrested?”

“It’s fine.  A mistake.  It’s sorted.”

Filch didn’t speak, and slowly ate his cake – but his eyes never left the younger man.

* * *

“I hear you’ve been punishing young Mr Malfoy,” Severus said, leaning against the doorframe.

“I hear young Mr Malfoy has been gettin’ into trouble,” Filch shot back.  “Don’t stand there lookin’ ugly – come in, or get gone.  I don’t have discussions in doorways.”

“I only come because I like your cake,” Severus said, smoothly, locking the door behind him.  He took a seat, allowing Mrs Norris to leap onto his lap.  “As Draco’s Head of House, I do not wish for you to punish him, no matter what the other teachers may request.”

“Coz he’s a Malfoy? Coz y’see him and see his father?”

Severus narrowed his eyes, and lifted Mrs Norris from his lap, throwing her gently to the ground. “…are you enjoying punishing him because he’s a Malfoy?”

“Look, lad-”

“As his Head of House,” Severus intoned, his voice brooking no argument, “I am formally requesting that you bring him to me for punishment.  Are we clear, Mr Filch?”

Filch stared at Severus for a long moment, and then placed one of the mugs back into the cupboard.  “…yes, Professor.”

* * *

He searched for an hour, and eventually found him on the top of the astronomy tower.  Filch stood at the top of the stairs, several feet away from him.  He wasn’t sure how to address him these days; never sure if he’s still his boy, or whether he’s the cold Head of Slytherin who holds him in such disdain.  In the end, he couldn't the appropriate words, so he coughed.

It was enough.

Severus turned, his feet unsteady, and he huffed a laugh when he saw Filch’s shadow in the moonlight.  “All right?”

“More to the point, are yer all right?”

He lifted the bottle of firewhisky, as if it wasn’t already apparent what he’d been indulging in, and toasted the stars in the sky.  “Are you partaking, good sir?”

He was playing – joking, but something about that word on his lips caused a stir inside Filch’s chest. He trod heavily across the tower, and took the bottle from the younger man.  Least, he tried, but Severus’ hand was clamped firmly on the glass, and there was an odd challenge in his dark eyes when Filch tried to take the bottle from him.

“Seems not.”

Severus gave a soft laugh, and held the bottle out again.  This time, he released it when Filch grabbed it and the older man took a large swig.

“More.  Have more.”

“Yer’ll ‘ave us both fallin’ off this tower, carryin’ on like that.”

“Would it matter?”

“It’s the wolf.”

Severus spun rapidly, pushing Filch back against the wall, his body between the older man and the stairs.  His wand was out, tracking for movement - and Filch realised his mistake.  He reached forward, and gently placed his hand on Severus’ upper arm.  He squeezed, soothingly.

“Not 'ere, lad.  He’s not 'ere.”  He paused.  “I mean, it’s him what’s got yer all shook up.”  Filch tentatively put his arm around the younger man’s shoulders.  “Come on, come down to my rooms.  It’s cold up ‘ere.”

* * *

He spied him in the entrance hall with that brute Karkaroff, and then, incredibly, in the dungeon hallway with Lucius Malfoy.  He dragged his bucket into the centre of the floor, and made a show of mopping wildly, splashing the blond’s immaculate boots with greying water.

“Must you?”  Lucius sneered at the older man, and glanced at Severus.  “Can’t you control the underlings, Severus?”

“He’s got a job to do, Malf,” Severus said softly, glaring at Filch as he escorted Lucius into his private rooms.  “Come. You can Floo from my quarters.”

“I really must protest in the strongest terms.  These boots were from Ital-”

“Malf!  Just Scourgify them, for crying out loud.”  Severus pushed him into his quarters, and Filch strained to hear the rest of their conversation.  “Listen, if old Filch tells Dumbledore you’re here-”

“Point taken, old chap.”  There was some movement, and rustling, but Filch could make out nothing further than:  “Owl me.”

* * *

“Yer stuck up for me,” Filch said, entering Severus’ private quarters, his mop and bucket dragging behind him.  “Could’ve done with less of the old, mind, but-”  He scratched behind his ear.  “I am honoured.  Yer boyfriend no less.”

“He’s not my boyfriend.”

“Yer wish he was.”

Severus marched to the door and slammed it shut, and pushed Filch back against it.  “What is this?  Some sort of time loop where we’re back in 1976?  Must I remind you that Lucius Malfoy is a married man?”

“Yer can look but not touch.”

Severus loomed over him, his large nose barely millimetres from Filch’s ear.  Filch could hear the younger man’s laboured breathing, and the warm huff of air down his neck.  

“And you’d know all about that, wouldn’t you, hmm, Mr Filch?

Filch closed his eyes, his chest thumping wildly as he felt Severus’ five o’clock shadow scratching against his own rough stubble.  The younger man slowly pressed him more firmly against the door, holding his wrists tightly by his hips.  

 _“_ Or should I say… _sir?”_

Filch’s eyes snapped open, and then – finally – there was the tentative graze of soft lips against his own.

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr prompt: Can I request a Filch/Snape fic? I don't mind what sort of content so it could be mentor or it could be friendship or it could be slash or something else you think of. Thanks!!


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